I found mymy Best Friend’s Brother onon Hinge

“No,” goes my friend, deleting yet another mildly good looking man from my Hinge.

“He was cute.”

“He looked twelve.”

I bring up another one, this man twenty-five years old and a football player. Goalie. I swipe through photos of him saving balls. Of him suited and booted in a black tux, a cheeky grin on his face. He poses at formals with lipped smiles, hands behind his back to probably enhance the broadness of his shoulders. Tallest in the friendship group. Green eyes sharp enough to pierce my phone screen.

“Well, what about him?”

I hand the phone over to my friend.

We’re in York at some bar that’s doing two-for-one cocktails. It makes a change. Normally Wednesday evening we’re in bed by nine listening to freshers scream down the street as they head to their social nights.

A quiet few cocktails is as social as Master students get.

“Oh my god.”

“Fit, right?”

“What the fuck?”

“What?” I snatch the phone from my friend before she can cross him off too.

“It’s Lewis.”

It takes a moment for me to register. Lewis as in her brother? She’s only spoken about him a few times, never showed me a picture. Thinking about it now, this is probably why.

The man’s a fucking dream.